


Not So Different

by Lady Divine Coldflash (fhartz91)



Series: Would You, Could You [6]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Drama, Ficlet, High School, M/M, Mention of Minor Injuries, Romance, insinuations of child abuse, mention of the death of Nora Allen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6125308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine%20Coldflash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry finds himself alone on the one night that he really shouldn't be, and Len stops by to make sure that he's okay. Talking things out in Barry's room, Barry discovers that he and Len aren't all that different in certain respects. He also finds out why, exactly, Len decided to become friends with him to begin with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Different

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is an attempt to add in some canon details and resolve the time/age difference between Len and Barry. It hints at things about Len's backstory which will become more fully explained later on. Overall, I think that this turned out really well, and I hope that it works for you guys. Let me know what you think. (Also, I added the LoT tag since the story Len gives is an element of that show) <3

Barry really doesn’t want to be alone. Not tonight of all nights.

Joe and Iris do their best to be home for him, the way they do on this same night every year, but too many pressing, unavoidable things pop up. Joe gets caught at work, stuck in the middle of a case that he can’t push on to someone else, no matter how hard he tries. It isn’t that the guys down at the precinct don’t sympathize. They all know what happened to Barry’s mom. Hell, most of Central City has heard something about the night Nora Allen died (whether the versions were anywhere near accurate or not). And in their defense, each officer tries to juggle things around to help Joe out. But in the end, he gets locked in, with no other options.

Iris is in the middle of completing a group project on _The History of Civil Unrest in America_. It counts for a third of her grade in social studies, and needs to be presented second period the following day, so she can’t reschedule. She can’t bow out on her group, not when they each have an equal stake, and not when she chose the topic in the first place. Her friends are relying on her to hold up her end.

Due to a few transportation conflicts, they decided to meet at the house of a friend who lives closer to school. Iris invites Barry to come along, but he doesn’t want to be stuck for four hours in a house with a bunch of girls he barely knows, especially not when he doesn’t think he’ll be good company.

Barry says he’ll be fine home alone so she won’t worry about him.

He honestly thought he would be.

Len has a _thing_ he has to do with his dad, and the _things_ that Lewis Snart arranges for them to do are not negotiable. Barry doesn’t even need to know what said _thing_ is to know that to be true, so he decides not to burden Len. Besides, they’ve only been dating for a handful of weeks. Barry doesn’t feel there’s any reason to trouble Len with his issues. It hadn’t come up when they were just friends, and Len had said that things for them now were going to stay relatively the same, with the exception of what they did in private.

When six o’clock rolls around, Barry locks the front door after Iris leaves and heads up to his room, preparing to make the most out of his quiet evening.

Barry doesn’t have any homework left to finish, so he finds a book he’s been meaning to get to, lies on his bed, and starts to read. But even though he bought it, and had been genuinely looking forward to reading it, he isn’t actually in the mood. He feels antsy, wound up. He considers going for a run, but it’s already late, and he just doesn’t feel like it. He doesn’t feel like leaving the safety of the house at all. But he doesn’t feel like staying in one place, either. Not that he can get comfortable on his bed, his desk chair, the couch, anywhere. He makes himself a snack, but it ends up sitting on the kitchen table, untouched. He puts on some music, but a few songs in, it grates on his nerves. He searches for something to watch on television, but he can’t focus on anything for longer than five minutes at a stretch. He can’t even find a way to simply zone out with the TV as a backdrop, the actors on the sitcom bantering with the laugh track underneath noise to his ears anyway, so he turns it off.

Without the TV or music, the house is quiet. Sitting on the couch, trying to think of something else to occupy his time, his mind starts spiraling in a dozen directions - random thoughts, intrusive thoughts, rational thoughts, all hitting him, colliding at different points, bringing memories to the present, turning daydreams into reality. He’s sitting in the West House, he knows he is, but then he blinks, and he’s not in the West House. He’s in his living room back in his old home, and his mom is there, sitting on the floor amid a whirlwind of crackling electricity, red and yellow swirls of lightning, swallowing the sound of Nora Allen calling her son’s name.

_“Barry! Barry!”_

Barry puts his hands over his ears to block it out, but it’s coming from inside his head, and it won’t be silent.

_“Barry! Barry!”_

He inhales sharply, his chest heaving, like he’s stuck in the whirlwind himself, the oxygen being sucked out, making it too hard to breathe.

_“Barry! Barry!”_

“M-mom?” he cries, crumbling in on himself, trying to stop the flashback before it goes any further, fighting to find a way out of his own head.

_“Barry!”_

…

“Barry?”

An early spring breeze picks up outside, knocking a stray branch or something against the door, and Barry remembers the sensation of being whisked away. He thought he had gotten caught up in that vortex of red and yellow lightning, but, in a flash, he was outside, blocks from his house. Even though he didn’t see it, that moment that changed his life forever, he knew, somehow, that nothing in his life would ever be the same.

The knocking against the door becomes forceful, more defined, and after a minute of listening to taps become _thuds_ , Barry realizes it’s not some _thing_. It’s some _one_.

“Barry?” _Knock-knock._ “Barry, are you there?”

Barry hops off the couch in a hurry at the sound of that voice, his entire body vibrating with relief.

“Len?” Barry calls before he heads for the door. He unlocks the dead bolt and twists the knob a bit too hard in his excitement. He pulls open the door, his eyes going wide with surprise when he sees Len standing on the front porch, dressed in head to toe black – black Henley, black jeans, even black socks and sneakers. Barry looks Len over, thrilled that he’s there, but it’s hard to overlook the scratch above his right eye and his mildly swollen upper lip.

“What are you doing here?”

Len half-smiles, looking sheepish. “I…uh…I thought you could use a friend…tonight.”

“Yeah,” Barry says, wiping at the remains of tears with his fingers. Len adverts his eyes when he does. “Yeah, I really could.” Barry steps back eagerly to let Len in. “But, I thought you had to do something with your dad.”

“Yeah, uh…it kinda ended early,” Len says, watching Barry shut and lock the door. “Got interrupted. We had to reschedule.”

“Oh,” Barry says, hoping Len will give him a more detailed explanation but not expecting one, “well, I guess that’s fortunate for me, right?”

“Right,” Len says with a tired laugh that could have been a sigh. He heads for the stairs, hands shoved in his pockets. He takes the first step, his left knee stiff and unyielding. Barry swallows hard. Len didn’t have that limp at school earlier.

“How’s Lisa?” Barry asks, the pained expression Len tries to hide as he staggers slightly bothering Barry enough that he feels the need to ask.

“She’s good,” Len says. “She’s fine. Visiting friends. I’m gonna go get her before I head home.”

They get to Barry’s room and Len heads straight for the bed, toeing off his shoes before he sits down. He looks uncomfortable as he maneuvers the leg he’s been favoring on to the bed. Barry stops watching when he feels himself staring, idly grabbing a baseball off his shelf and toying with it until he gets his chance to climb on the bed. He settles down beside Len, scooting close until he can feel the heat from Len’s skin against his arm without them actually touching.

“How did you know?” Barry asks. He tosses the baseball lightly in the air and extends an arm to catch it.

“I’ve known for a while,” Len admits, watching Barry throw the ball up and down, up and down, a little higher each time, risking it coming closer to his body before he makes a move to catch it. “I didn’t wanna pry. Didn’t feel I had the right to bring it up.” On Barry’s fifth toss, Len snatches the ball out of the air before Barry can catch it. “Did you wanna talk about it?” Len asks. He takes over tossing and catching the ball, needing this minor distraction to keep from being too affected, in case Barry _does_ want to talk. Len had heard the story about the night Barry’s mother died on several occasions. He wouldn’t admit it, but it got to him every time, especially considering what happened to his own mom.

Barry shakes his head. “I think you’ve heard that story a hundred times.” He sighs. “You and everybody else. Between Joe and Iris, my dad, the police, my friends, my own head, I don’t think I _can_ anymore. It’s just hard, you know?” Barry sniffles, hating himself for doing it. Len doesn’t respond, but not because he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know how to comfort Barry. Not about this. But Barry appreciates Len giving him space to have this embarrassing moment. “Having this mystery locked in my head,” he says, “knowing that it’s the truth and not being able to explain it, not being able to solve it…I mean, there’s no equation for it, no function that can help me figure it out. No solution I come up with makes any sense. It’s the kind of thing that science seems to have no explanation for…no science that I know of, at least. I have to accept it on blind faith, trust that I saw what I saw, no matter what.”

“Makes sense,” Len says, distantly, like he might not be listening, waiting for a pause between the words to say something generically supportive. Barry glances his way, and sees that that can’t be further from the truth. Len’s no longer tossing the ball, kneading it in his grip. His brow furrowed, his eyes stare intensely at the ceiling, like he’s inside Barry’s brain, looking over the evidence, trying to find a solution for himself.

“But the worst part is knowing that the people who love me, and care about me, don’t believe me,” Barry continues. “Even though they know me, and trust me, they can’t believe this one thing. And it just so happens to be the most important thing in my life.”

“I hear ya.” Len nods. “And for the record, _I_ believe you.”

Barry rolls his eyes fondly, flattered by Len’s chivalry. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

Len scoffs. “When is the last time I’ve ever said something just to make someone feel better? I mean it, Allen. Name one time. I dare you.”

Barry laughs, snorting indelicately, which makes Len laugh with him, hissing subtly when his swollen lip curls.

“You’ve got me there,” Barry says. “I can’t think of any.”

“That’s because I haven’t. I don’t pull that shit,” Len says, his laughter resolving too quickly. “I believe you, Barry, because…something kind of weird happened to me when I was younger. Something I’ve never told anyone because…it’s too hard to explain.”

Barry turns his head to look at the boy lying beside him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Len starts tossing the ball again, eyes following its movement as it sails smoothly up, returning to his hands the same way each time. From the look on Len’s face, his expression blank but still lost in his thoughts, Barry knows it’s not a simple question to answer.

“I think it probably happened around the same time you lost your mom,” Len begins, putting the ball down and resting his arms at his sides. “My dad, he wasn’t always…well, he wasn’t always like the way he is now. I mean, he’s always been dirty, but he was a decent dad for the most part. Loved my mom, and me and my sis in his own way. Same old, same old – as long as we stayed out of his way, he was fine with us. Anyway, I woke up one night and went downstairs for a glass of water. I heard a noise. I thought, maybe it’s my dad, up late, puttering around. He used to have nights like that, where he couldn’t sleep very well, so he just sat in the living room in the dark, waiting for the sun to rise. But I went into the kitchen and I saw this guy. He said he was a friend of my father’s, but he looked like he could be a relative, you know? A little like my mom, but also a little like my dad. But we never had much in the way of relatives come over the house, other than my grandpa, and besides, why would he be there in the middle of the night?” Len shakes his head. “He told me some things…about my dad.” He pauses, chewing over what he should and shouldn’t say, how much he should reveal. “He told me to always look out for myself, and for my mom and Lees as best I can. He told me not to blame myself for anything that happens, because it won’t be my fault, no matter how it feels. I think he wanted to tell me something else, but my dad walked in, and I went back to my room. A few days later, my dad got arrested, and when he came back…things started happening like the man said.”

“Were you ever able to ask him how he knew?” Barry asks. He doesn’t want to push, especially where it concerns Len’s family, but this is the first time Len’s opened up to him. “Did you ever see him again?”

“Yeah,” Len says in a hollow voice. “I’ve seen him.”

“When?”

Len has an answer. Barry can see it trembling his lips, but Len looks like he doesn’t want to give it.

“Every time I look in the mirror,” he says softly. He continues on before Barry can accuse Len of pulling his leg. “I don’t know how to explain it, Barry, and I’m not…I’m not bullshitting you, or making a joke. I swear on my life, I think that man was me. _Older_ me. I was so afraid of telling anyone, and my dad said not to…or else. It didn’t matter if he threatened me, I wasn’t going to tell. I mean, who in the world would ever believe that fucking story?” Barry thinks he sees a tear glimmer in the corner of Len’s eye, but Len raises a hand and brushes it away. “But then, I heard you at school one day, talking to Iris about the day your mom died, and the things you saw, how hard you swore that you saw them, and I thought that maybe…”

“I might believe you?” Barry finishes. “That’s why you stopped being a jerk to me and started being my friend?” The pieces of one of Barry’s personal mysteries finally start coming together. He’d always wondered why it was that Leonard Snart had decided to stop ragging on him and become his friend. It seemed to happen out of the blue, completely unexpected. At first, Barry thought that maybe Len needed someone to help him with his homework, but even with his less than stellar attendance record, he had been pulling A’s and B’s in the majority of his classes. So Barry couldn’t think of any other possible reason and just went with it, figuring that if this was some sort of joke or phase, it would play itself out. But it never did. They kept getting closer and closer, and now, here they were, in a relationship together.

“Yeah,” Len says with a solemn nod. That’s not the case now, evidenced by the fact that Len waited so long to actually tell Barry his secret, but there’s no denying that, back then, that was the reason – the _sole_ reason. “Yeah, that’s why.”

Len’s eyes dart away. He feels so guilty, so fucking guilty after that confession, he has no idea how he’s supposed to look Barry in the face again. He wishes he were a nobler human being, but he’s not. His intentions haven’t always been the best. He should have become friends with Barry because it was the right thing to do, because Barry had always been picked on and bullied, even by him, and Len could have kept that from happening. He sees that now.

But it might be too late to make up for that.

He wouldn’t blame Barry if he kicked his ass out.

Len moves to cross his arms over his chest, but Barry finds Len’s hand beside his on the bed, and threads their fingers together.

“I’m glad you did,” Barry says. “I’m glad you became my friend.”

Len rubs across Barry’s knuckles with his thumb. He tilts his head up to rid himself of a tear on the side of his face that Barry can’t see.

“Yeah?” Len says, his voice cracking a hair. “So am I.”


End file.
